I Want To Be
by She Who Cannot Be Turned
Summary: Dean can understand Sammy perfectly. What he doesn't understand is why no one else can.


**Title**: I want to be (in a world where I belong)  
**Author**: She Who Cannot Be Named  
**Fandom**: Supernatural  
**Pairing**: Gen (If you squint, you could possibly see wincesty undertones. But same goes for canon…)  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Warnings**: Pre-series AU, hurt!Sam, over-protective!Dean, Sam has dysnomia (which basically means he has difficulty in finding the correct words, names and/or numbers from memory. He knows them, he just can't think of them on the spot.)  
**Summary**: Dean can understand Sammy perfectly. What he doesn't understand is why no one else can.  
**Word Count**: ~ 6,600 words  
**Authors** **Note**: This is based on the prompt at the OhSam comment meme from citizen_ephiny, which was "Sam with either aphasia or some speech impediment. He is otherwise perfectly normal, just can't communicate with any kind of ease. Bonus points if Dean is the only one who can properly understand him. Any season. Gen preferred, but Wincest is fine." Hopefully I did an alright job. Sam's issues are partially based on my own issues, only his are much worse than mine are.

* * *

Dean was ten when his dad was told what was wrong with Sammy. Which confused Dean to no end because he didn't think there actually was something wrong with his baby brother. He had never understood when people said that Sam wasn't making sense, or when their dad would get frustrated with Sam and snap at him. Dean hadn't ever had a problem with knowing just what Sam was telling him. So he was rightly confused when his dad pulled him aside after leaving Sammy colouring at the table in the kitchen and moved them to stand in the corner, out of hearing distance of Sammy.

"Dad?" Dean glanced back at Sammy to make sure his brother was alright before he turned back to look at his dad, nose wrinkling in confusion when he saw John's serious expression.

"Dean… Sammy's teacher called me into his school today to talk to me about him. Now, have you ever noticed anything wrong with Sammy?" Dean frowned and shook his head, looking back to Sammy when he heard a small whine.

"No! Why would you ask that?" Dean asked, looking back at his dad after he'd smiled reassuringly at Sammy and his brother had gone back to colouring in, humming happily under his breath.

"His teacher noticed something and I've got to admit, I've been wondering for a while now. Sammy isn't quite like all the other kids his age, Dean. Surely you've noticed that he's not as good as his peers at talking," John told him in a quiet voice, obviously trying to get across his point that he clearly thought was obvious. Sadly, he was the only one to find it obvious because Dean had no clue what he was talking about.

"Sam can talk just fine, Dad."

"Son, you have to admit that Sammy is… unique in the way he tries to get his point across. Sometimes it's hard to understand what he's trying to say," John told him gently, looking over Dean's head to where Sammy was still humming to himself, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth and little legs swinging back and forth.

"No."

"Dean!" Dean jerked and spun round when Sam called his name, smiling when Sam held up a brightly coloured picture. "Look! It's—" Sam made a small huffing noise, then waved his hands a little, paper making a fluttering noise and making Sam smile and shrug.

"It's awesome, Sammy! Did you learn about them at school today?" Dean asked, abandoning John where he was standing, frowning as he watched his sons, realising that Dean truly didn't have any problem understanding what Sam was trying to get across.

"Yeah!" Sammy agreed happily, shifting on his seat when Dean sat next to him at the table and picked up a crayon. "Dean! You can too?" Sammy asked him, shrugging and then shoving some paper over to his older brother and whining a little.

"Yeah, I'll try and draw one too. Dunno if it'll be as good as yours though, Sammy. What kind of dog do you want me to draw?" Dean asked, looking at Sammy, who just shrugged and tapped on the table a couple of times, before sighing and reaching up with his tapping hand and tugging on his hair. "Same as Mr Bennet's?" Sammy nodded his head and smiled brightly, looking up at Dean through his fringe. Both boys turned to look when John cleared his throat a few moments later, both having forgotten he was there at all.

"Dean…"

"No, Dad. Sammy's teacher is wrong. It's stupid! You're stupid!" Dean muttered, scowling at his father before looking back to Sammy and smiling at him reassuringly when he noticed the nervous look on his little brother's face. "It's alright, Sammy."

"Wh-what has she said?" Sammy asked, looking from Dean to their father, who sighed and moved over to sit at the other chair at the table. John rested his elbows on the table and ran his hands through his hair before he looked from Dean to Sam.

"Miss Stevenson told me that you've been having some issues at school, Sammy. She said it wasn't anything bad, but that she got someone to do a couple of tasks with you, is that right, Sammy?" John asked, inwardly sighing when Sam opened his mouth to answer before he closed it with an audible snap and shrugged his shoulders, looking over to Dean with his wide puppy eyes.

"You did, Sammy? Why didn't you tell me?" Sammy just glanced down at the crayons on the table in front of him and shrugged his shoulders, chubby fingers tugging on his messy hair. "You know I wouldn't have been angry, Sammy. What did you do?"

"Just… stuff," Sammy whispered with another shrug and a small, barely audible muffled grunt.

"Well, do you know what the tasks you did told them?" John asked, when it seemed that neither boy was going to say anything more. Dean looked from his father to Sammy and narrowed his eyes, before looking back, waiting just to hear what it was this supposed test had found out. Dean still wasn't entirely sure he was agreeing that there _was_ anything wrong with Sam, but he'd let their dad tell them and he decided he'd wait and see what he thought.

"Was just… No! I didn't—Dean! Weren't—I—" Sam whined and scrubbed his knuckled over his face, before sliding down from his chair and moving to cling to Dean's side, turning large sad eyes to look at John and shrugging silently.

"It's okay, Sammy. You didn't do anything wrong, right dad?"

"Dean's right, Sammy. You did everything they asked of you. They just mentioned that you had a couple of issues in getting across what you meant. Is that right, Sammy? That sometimes you can't find the words you want to use and get upset?" John asked in a soft voice, shifting his chair around the table a little so that he was nearer to Sam. He gave a small sigh when Sam just gave a small whimper and clutched onto Dean's t-shirt even tighter, so tight that his knuckles went white.

"Don't get upset, Sammy. It's not your fault if they were too dumb to know what you were saying, I understand you, Sammy. No one else matters, okay?" Dean told Sammy, gently untangling Sam's fingers from his t-shirt and moving to tug Sam onto his lap. Sam just nodded silently and buried his face into Dean's neck.

"Dean's right, Sammy. You haven't done anything wrong, but Miss Stevenson explained that you have something called dysnomia, meaning that you sometimes can't always think of the right words to use and so you can't always talk about what you're thinking. She told me, Sammy, that that doesn't mean you don't know the words, just you can't use them at that minute. Sort of like when Dean is doing his math homework and he can't find the right answer. Doesn't mean he doesn't know it, it just takes him a little longer to find the answer. However, with you, it just happens a little more often. Sammy…" John trailed off, smiling gently when Sam shifted to look out the corner of his eyes at John, face still pressed to Dean's neck, whilst Dean soothingly rubbed up and down his back.

"Sammy, you know this ain't gonna change nothin' with us! We don't need anyone else to get what you're saying, long as I get you, then you're fine! I'm never gonna leave you behind, Sammy, so if someone ain't smart enough to understand you, then I'll tell 'em what it is you want! Yeah?" Dean said brightly, smiling widely when Sam just looked up at him and nodded his head once, smiling tentatively before he burrowed his face back into Dean's neck.

"Dean…" John sighed and dragged a hand over his face, "Dean, you're not always going to be able to be there for Sammy, you can't follow him to all his classes. I was told that I need to explain to his new teachers at any new schools, that he'll need some extra time sometimes."

"I don't see why. Nothing wrong with Sammy," Dean muttered sullenly, hugging Sam tightly. John sighed and rolled his eyes when Dean just glared at him.

"Fine, Dean. If you want to believe that, then that's fine. The truth is, however, that Sam _is_ different to others and if you ignore that he has extra needs, then you'll just be harming him in the long run. Ignoring this now means that Sammy won't be getting the help he needs and will just set him back," John told him firmly, meeting Dean's eyes and keeping contact until Dean looked away and buried his face in Sam's hair. Dean stiffened for a second before relaxing when he felt John clap a hand on his shoulder before he left the two brothers alone in the kitchen.

"Dean?" Dean pulled back from Sam a little when he heard Sam whisper his name, looking down to see Sam staring at him with damp eyes.

"S'up, Sammy?"

"S'Dad right? I didn't—today—I _tried_, Dean. M'sorry," Sam whispered, sniffling a little and moving to nuzzle his face in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean sighed sadly and tightened his hold on Sam, moving a hand to rub Sam's back.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sammy. I promise. They just… they just don't get us. It's their fault, Sammy, not yours. Never your fault, Sammy."

* * *

Sam nibbled on his bottom lip as he silently watched Dean and their dad discussing the latest hunt John was on, he felt a small pang of hurt at being ignored by their dad, but found that he could see his point. No point in taking someone who couldn't recall an important chant when it was needed. Of course, that didn't mean John had to basically pretend Sam wasn't there. He'd be quite content with a happy medium. Or a nod of acknowledgement. He wasn't picky.

He looked up when Dean agreed to whatever it was John was telling him and John picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. Sighing quietly, Sam watched their father leave the motel room they were staying in with barely a glance back at his sons and a hastily added 'watch Sam' thrown at Dean before the door shut behind the man.

Really, Sam had no idea what his dad's problem was. Well, no, that was a small lie, he knew his dad was disappointed that Sam would never be able to be a hunter - not that Sam or Dean agreed with that analysis - and for some reason, that translated into only giving Sam the bare minimum of attention. The thing was, Sam didn't really mind. Dean gave him all the attention he needed and seemed to hold this belief that Sam could achieve anything he wanted. The only concern Sam truly had was that their father was right, that Sam would never be able to be a hunter and that one day Sam would be left behind. Sam didn't want that to happen. He supposed his biggest fear was that Dean would leave him behind one day.

And Sam wouldn't be able to blame him when it did happen. He knew he was a burden on Dean, he was just that spastic kid that followed behind Dean like a lost puppy. He just didn't know how to change that. Dean was his everything and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to change that. The only thing he wanted to change was that stupid disability he was diagnosed with four years ago.

Sam was pulled from his increasingly depressing thoughts by Dean slamming a pillow into his face and smirking when Sam scowled at him, snatching the pillow from his brother's hand before he could repeat the gesture.

"Why you ignoring me, Sammy?" Dean asked him, eyebrow raised as he moved to sit on the arm of Sam's chair. Sam could see that Dean was worried for him and he sighed and shifted over to make more room for Dean to sit down next to him.

"M'not," Sam mumbled, looking down at his hands as he found a loose thread to pick at on his hoodie sleeve. Dean gently punched his shoulder to get his attention and frowned at him.

"What's wrong, Sammy? Don't lie and tell me nothing," Dean warned him. Sam wrinkled his nose at him and then shrugged, unsure how to explain what was wrong. He opened his mouth to at least try, but then just made a frustrated noise when the words just didn't come to him. "Sam… you know Dad doesn't leave you out deliberately. He just doesn't want you to get hurt. And, dude, you're only ten! I wasn't even helping on hunts when I was ten!"

Sam just shrugged and sighed loudly, bonelessly slumping against Dean's side when Dean tugged on him. Sam was hugely grateful that Dean had never seemed to have any issue in understanding what Sam was trying to say - and possibly reading Sam's mind. Sam wasn't going to totally discount that possibility - and was patient with him when his frustration made him almost mute.

"Sam… come on, I know Dad not letting you help him with hunts isn't what's really bothering you. Spill it," Dean demanded softly, nudging Sam when Sam made no move to answer.

Sam huffed a small sigh and shifted so that he could look at Dean. Nose wrinkling for a second before he rolled his eyes and shrugged a shoulder. "Dad doesn't—He's always all gah! I don't—Why can't he just, mmm, just _see_ me? _Dean_!" Sam finally exclaimed after silently trying to form more words to just get his point across, frustration and distress clear in his voice.

"Sammy! Dad doesn't hate you! Come on, you know he's not big on affection, he never has been. You can't think he's just started that because of what that idiot told him all those years ago. Sammy, you're smarter than that," Dean told him, frowning a little when Sam just huffed and shook his head. Huffing out a quick breath through his teeth, Sam took a deep breath as he tried to figure out just what it was he wanted to say. He could feel his frustration rising as the words escaped him.

"It's not—He's not…" Sam hissed wordlessly and rubbed his knuckles over his eyes. He jumped when he felt Dean move to rub the back of his neck. Relaxing back into his brother's side, Sam gave a small sigh and shifted to hide his face in Dean's shirt.

"Sammy?" Dean nudged Sam so that he could see his face, and Sam sniffled slightly, looking up through his hair at Dean.

"I don't want to…get—no, I… don't leave me? M'sorry," Sam mumbled quickly when Dean frowned at him, giving an inaudible relieved huff when Dean tugged him so that he was practically sitting on Dean's lap.

"Dude… Sammy, I'll never leave you! Don't ever think that I would! Is this what you've been thinking about? That you think I'm gonna leave you behind or something? Sammy, why would you think that?"

Sam whined in the back of his throat and tried to burrow even closer into Dean's chest in the hopes that he could avoid answering. He couldn't help but feel that if he told Dean why he got that thought in his head, then maybe Dean would consider that Sam had a point. Which was a little paranoid, but Sam had far too much time on his hands to think of these things.

"Sam, no matter what anyone else might think of you, _I_ know that you're smart and you'll never be useless. So come on, stop being stupid and let's go prove that you don't have to be able to recite stupid chants in order to be a hunter. Dad told me to do some more research on what he thinks he's hunting, so let's see if you can do better than me." Sam gave a small smile when Dean nudged him off the couch and towards the table.

"You just… suck." Not quite what Sam wanted to say, but it did get the message across. Sort of.

"Sammy! I'm hurt!"

"Hmm."

* * *

"Freak!" Sam couldn't hide his flinch when he was shoved into the lockers by a passing jock. He sighed softly and leant against the locker until the guy had left the hallway. Sam always felt it was best to just not draw too much attention to himself whilst he was at school, but sometimes even that didn't work.

He bit at his lip as he pushed away and slowly made his way to his next class, scowling at the floor as he remembered that it was one of the many remedial classes he was in. Apparently, most teachers figured that if he couldn't string together a coherent sentence, then he clearly wouldn't be able to work out complex sums or be able to get through a Shakespeare play.

Which was utter crap, because he couldn't name one fifteen year old that _could_ get through studying a full Shakespeare play without seriously losing all will to live. But his opinions didn't matter - not that he could speak them anyway.

Sam couldn't believe that he had actually been naively looking forward to going to high school. He had thought that perhaps he would be treated differently by the teachers there, that they'd actually bother to test him properly and see that he actually did have a brain, as opposed to automatically assuming he'd be dumb as a post and behind everyone in class. And even if that wasn't right, then at least he'd be at school with _Dean_!

Yeah, he forgot that Dean would be graduating after Sam had been in high school for a year. And once Dean left, Sam had nothing left for him at school and just didn't see any point in bothering with it. If he thought he would have been able to get away with it, he'd have dropped out. But he knew his dad wouldn't agree with that plan.

So once he no longer had Dean as a barrier between him and the rest of the world - well, the rest of whichever school they happened to be in at the time - then Sam became easy pickings. And once the students all worked out that Sam wouldn't be able to point the blame at them anyway, then it became a free for all on making Sam's life miserable.

Sam really hated school.

Heaving a depressed sigh, Sam pushed the door to his classroom for the next forty minutes open and dropped his book onto his desk, flinching and holding back a groan when he felt something wet hit the back of his neck and then the unmistakeable snickering of his classmates behind him.

Sam really, really hated school.

* * *

Spotting the Impala waiting in front of the school with the other cars waiting to pick up random students, Sam smiled softly and made his way towards the car. His smile dropped slightly when someone roughly shoved into him, knocking his bag from his shoulder and winding him slightly, but he kept his balance and carried on to get to Dean, silently wincing when he noticed the thunderous look on his brother's face.

"Sammy… what the hell was that?" Dean asked him as soon as he'd thrown his bag onto the back seat and had climbed in and onto the seat next to him. Sam just shrugged and bit on his lip, making a small wave motion with his hand towards the school. Dean exhaled loudly and shook his head, even as he started the car. "Sam, you can't let them push you around like that. You want me to sort them out?"

Sam glanced over at him and shook his head frantically, making a strangled noise in the back of his throat swiftly followed by a noise of frustration when he still couldn't form the words he wanted to say to Dean. Slumping down in his seat, Sam just shook his head once more and turned to look out the window.

"Sammy…" Dean sighed as he trailed off and Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, nibbling on his lip when he saw how white Dean's knuckles were as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

"Dean—You can't—I don't need…" Sam stopped and took a deep breath as he tried to find the right words and also get them out before he insulted Dean somehow. Not that Sam actually ever thought Dean would misunderstand what he was trying to say, still the fear was there. "You can't always… Frah! Stand! You can't stand for me!" Sam finally blurted out, pouting when it just didn't sound right but hoping that Dean carried on understanding everything Sam tried to say.

"Dude, I'm not fighting your battles! I know you don't need me to do that! That's why I told you not the let them shove you around! You're better than them, Sammy! And you can kick their asses! I don't get why you won't?" Dean told him, scowling as he stopped at a red light and glanced over to Sam, who was staring at his hands in his lap. He had no idea how to even _begin_ to answer Dean's question.

Instead of even bothering to try and ultimately fail, Sam just shrugged and huffed out loudly. He didn't want to have to fight everyday for the next two and half years of school, just so that people would stop bothering him. Why try? Once they went to a new school, the same thing would just start all over and it would just be pointless. Always best to just ignore them and hope they'd ignore you back.

Apparently Dean got all of that out of his shrug and just shook his head before heaving a heavy sigh himself and reaching across to ruffle Sam's hair before he moved to rest his hand against the back of Sam's neck. Sam smiled softly at him and finally relaxed back into his brother, content to let the rest of the journey home pass in silence.

However, Dean didn't seem to be of the same opinion as he soon shifted in his seat and glanced over at Sam before looking back at the road. After the third time of doing this, Sam huffed and looked at Dean expectantly.

"Dad called." Sam raised an eyebrow in question, silently urging Dean to carry on. And Dean, being the master of speaking 'Sam', got the message and carried on, giving a small sigh before he did so. "He said he's done with the hunt and should be home by the end of the week. We're to be packed up and ready to move out by Saturday."

Sam stared at him for a minute or two, before he shrugged once more and nodded his head to show that he'd understood. It wasn't like he had a burning need to stay where they currently were. Then again, he wasn't particularly looking forward to starting a new school and becoming the new freak there, either.

"Sammy?"

"S'fine, Dean. M'fine. Good. Did he suh-speak… sss—" Sam huffed in frustration and scrubbed his hands over his face. There were moments of his life where he thought that nothing was getting better and in fact, his whole issue was actually getting worse. Now was one of those times.

"Nah, he didn't say where we'd be heading next," Dean told him, pulling to a stop outside their temporary house and glancing at Sam before he removed his hand from his neck after giving it a quick squeeze and climbing out the car. Sam smiled at him and followed him out the car and into the house. "So, I got my last pay cheque today and I figured we could just order a pizza, sound good?"

Sam nodded his head and threw his bag by the table before heading to the couch and dropping heavily onto it. Dean just shook his head and looked vaguely amused even as he kicked Sam's bag so that it was further under the table and out of the way as he went into the small kitchen.

Sam knew that Dean would like to spend more time on hunts with their dad, but since graduating, he'd made sure that he had a job in whatever town they were staying in and had, fairly often, turned their father down whenever John had asked Dean to go on hunts with him. Something that Sam was eternally grateful for, but couldn't stop the niggling feeling of guilt whenever it happened. He knew that Dean loved the hunts and he'd stopped going on the ones that would keep him away from Sam for longer than a night since John had stopped bothering to even train Sam. Still, Sam knew he wouldn't have been able to survive on his own.

Sometimes, his dependency on Dean scared him a little. Dean surely wouldn't want to stick with Sam for the rest of their lives, eventually his big brother was going to want to go back to hunting. So Sam pushed himself more and more each time Dean trained with him, hoping that one day he'd be good enough to hunt with Dean. At the very least, Sam hoped that maybe Dean would consider keeping Sam around to do all the research for him. He just wasn't all too hopeful that would be the case, and he was terrified of what would happen when Dean finally _did_ leave him.

"Sammy? You not got any homework that needs doing?" Dean asked him as he walked back out of the kitchen, two cans of coke in his hands. He handed one to Sam before sitting down next to him on the couch, looking at Sam with narrowed eyes when Sam continued to stay silent. "Sammy?"

"Um…"

"That's a yes then? You actually gonna do it today? Or you just gonna leave it like normal? Because, Sammy, I get that I'm not the best role model here, but you've actually got a brain to use. Shouldn't you at least try?"

"Why?" Sam mumbled, playing with the ring pull on the can and refusing to look at Dean. He saw no point in doing the homework, it wasn't like his teacher was going to read it and he was leaving the school in three days anyway, so why bother? Plus, it wasn't like Sam was looking towards getting into college. He'd never had that dream. He didn't really think colleges gave scholarships to mute freaks.

Dean glanced at him and sighed, shaking his head before shifting to take his phone out of his pocket. "Fine, Sammy. I'm not gonna force you and if you honestly don't think there's a point, then I won't argue with you. So instead, got any ideas on what you want on your pizza?"

* * *

Sam, quite honestly, was almost vibrating in his seat as he waited for the final bell to ring out his freedom from the hell that was high school. He wasn't even too bothered that he wouldn't be going to actually attend his graduation. Dean had sorted everything out in terms of getting his diploma sent to their Uncle Bobby's address - Sam wasn't entirely sure why John couldn't have been the one to do this, nor why his school had no problem dealing with Dean - and the three Winchester's would be leaving for South Dakota the next morning.

If only the bell would ring.

And the guys sitting behind Sam would stop shooting spit balls at his head. One downside of having longer hair was when said spitballs got stuck in it. And Sam had to pick them out before Dean noticed them.

Thankfully after today, he wouldn't have to deal with that anymore.

He just had no idea what he was going to do. It wasn't like his dad would let him actively join in the hunts, even though he had begrudgingly accepted - read: Dean had forced him to realise - just how much help Sam has been in the research side of hunts. That was apparently the most John would do to see Sam in a positive light. Which left Sam at a loss as to what he would do now that he didn't have to go to school.

He wasn't really aware of all that many jobs he would be welcomed into either. So that was also out, though apparently there was nothing better than a slightly retarded, mute boy playing pool to rake in the money, so he and Dean had that front covered. And Sam also had the amusing moments when Dean tried to switch their roles in that part to look forward to as well.

It was just… that was pretty much it. Though at least Sam could be grateful that he _did_ have even that to look forward to and that Dean and their dad hadn't left him on the side of the road just yet. Of course, there was a tiny part of Sam that thought that maybe they had waited for him to graduate high school and become a legal adult before abandoning him.

Jerking out of his musings when the bell (finally) rang, Sam shook his head, then ran his fingers through his hair to hopefully dislodge any balls of soggy paper that remained. Satisfied that he didn't have anything left in his hair, Sam grabbed his bag and left the classroom, bypassing the lockers having not actually used his in the three weeks he'd been there and thus not having to worry about if he'd left anything behind, and he made his way to the front of the school, smiling widely and quickening his step when he saw the Impala waiting patiently.

"Sammy! How does freedom feel? No different to any other day, right? Yeah, the disappointment soon leaves to be replaced with horror when you realise you're now an adult and actually responsible for your actions," Dean said as soon as Sam opened the door and slid in after throwing his bag into the back seat.

Sam huffed a near silent laugh ad shook his head, shrugging one shoulder in acknowledgement and answer to his brother's original question. Dean snorted and started the car, glancing over at Sam when Sam huffed loudly and then raised his eyebrow when he had Dean's attention.

"Dad's back at the motel. I think he's still happy enough to stay until morning, though who knows what that man is thinking at the best of times, so don't be too upset if we get back and find all our stuff packed to leave straight away," Dean told him in answer to Sam's silent question. Sam just huffed and shook his head.

"So when we get to Bobby's, I say we get stuff together and go on a camping trip over the weekend - unless Dad's got a hunt lined up for us," Dean said, not taking his eyes off the road but getting the hint when Sam snorted loudly, "well, yeah, okay. But you never know, maybe Dad was waiting for you to just graduate high school before taking you on a hunt."

"Reason?" Sam asked, finally deciding that exhalations and grunts would not be quite so sufficient in this conversation, not that he was too concerned with that. Of everyone he'd ever met in his life, Dean would remain the one person Sam never had any trouble talking to. He knew Dean had no problems getting what he wanted to say and Sam was well aware that Dean would never judge Sam by his disability.

"I dunno. Like I said, I cannot get what that man is thinking most of the time. Maybe he wanted you to concentrate on your grades and shit."

"L…Wah-"Sam huffed and took a deep breath as he tried to calm down enough to actually get one word out, never mind a whole sentence. "Grah-Lack. Lack grades."

"Aw, come on, Sammy. You know you're grades aren't that bad, and if you'd actually put some effort into things, then your grades would have been awesome. Hell, you beat me on most things without even trying, surely that tells you something and proves to every teacher you've ever had that they were wrong to think you were stupid." Sam rolled his eyes, though couldn't hide the small smile at Dean's unshakeable faith in him. Even if that happiness was slightly dampened by the fact that Sam clearly hadn't lived up to all of Dean's beliefs about him.

"Pah-poh… yeah."

"Glad you agree. So, ignoring whether or not Dad has a hunt set up for us - and you're coming whether he wants you to or not - then what do you think about the camping trip idea? I'm talking back to basics, hunting for food, training, everything like that. Bobby will help us get together everything we might need for that. Sound good?"

Sam nodded his head in agreement, making a small agreeable noise as well seeing as Dean wasn't actually looking at him to see the head nod, and slumped down a little more in his seat, shuffling so that he could rest his head on Dean's shoulder.

"We're nearly back to the motel, Dude, don't get too comfy. If dad isn't expecting us to leave straight away, then we can just veg out in front of the TV tonight, if that's alright with you?" Sam yawned a little and nodded his head still resting against Dean's shoulder, and huffed a startled laugh when Dean elbowed him in the stomach, before he took the hint and sat up properly. Still smiling, Sam shook his head and turned his attention to outside, getting that their conversation was over for the time being. He forced down the niggling feeling of fear that something was going to go wrong for him and tried to smother it with his contentment at being next to his brother in his favourite place to be.

Sadly it didn't work entirely and the nearer they got to their motel room, the more persistent the feeling of dread became until Sam was starting to feel physically nauseous by the time Dean stopped the car. He just couldn't quite understand where the feeling was coming from.

* * *

It became apparent where the bad feeling was coming from later that night after he and Dean had gone to bed - which since John was back meant they had to share and given Sam had finally reached his growth spurt a few years back, it was a little cramped in the tiny single that the motel provided in double rooms - and the sound of John on the phone drifted over to them from the open window where John was standing outside their door.

"Bobby, you know it's not safe! He can't hunt!" John's furious whisper drifted over to the bed Sam was lying in with Dean and he felt his whole body go cold with fear even as he felt Dean move and arm around his waist and pull him closer in comfort.

"D-?"

"Shh."

"No, Bobby! I can't think of any way around it! This way he can stay with you and research while me and Dean go on hunts," John explained in what sounded to be a forced calm voice and Sam only just managed to hold back the small whimper that wanted to be let out. He grabbed Dean's wrist and squeezed it tightly, shifting a little when Dean moved his head to rest it in the crook of Sam's neck.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Sammy," Dean whispered, making Sam tighten his grip on Dean's wrist even more and give a small shaky breath and a small nod. There wasn't a chance he was going to be able to speak at all that night.

"I can't take him on hunts with us, Bobby! He can't speak! What would happen if something happened and he couldn't call for help? Or what about interviewing witnesses? It isn't like he'd be able to do that! Dean's the only one who can understand him!" Just incase John hadn't been speaking about Sam, that hit the final nail in the coffin.

"Dad can do whatever he wants, Sammy, but I'm not going hunting without you. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're my Sammy. And there's no one I'd trust more to watch my back than you," Dean told him quietly, pulling Sam as close to him as possible. Sam felt himself relax a little, even as a tiny part of him mourned the loss of his father.

Because Sam knew there was no chance they would be staying with John after tonight.

"Look, Bobby, I'm not asking you to put him up forever, eventually he'll find a way to make his own way and he'll move out. This is temporary, Bobby, please!"

Sam sniffled quietly and clung on to the arm Dean had wrapped around his waist, not entirely sure he wanted to know what Bobby had been saying during the whole conversation. Because he was sure it meant either Bobby wasn't impressed with John's suggestion or, and Sam really didn't want to know if it was this argument - Bobby didn't want him either.

"We'll go to Bobby's first and find out, Sammy. Whatever's going on in your head right now, Sammy? It's not right. Bobby knows just how good a hunter you are. He knows Dad's wrong," Dean whispered to him, pressing a small kiss to Sam's temple and then moving slightly to rest his head on the pillow behind Sam's when they heard John moving nearer to the door.

"Thank you, Bobby. I promise, he'll pull his weight and won't get underfoot. See you tomorrow." Sam sniffed and then quickly closed his eyes, pressing back into Dean as much as he dared when the door opened and John quietly made his way inside. John paused at the bottom of their bed and Sam knew he would be frowning at them - the man for some reason disliking just how close his two sons were - and then sighed before stepping away from the bed and getting ready for his own.

Sam stayed completely still, breathing deeply and pretending to sleep just like Dean had taught him when they were kids and wanted to stay up later than their dad would let them, until he could tell that John had fallen into a deep sleep and then he shuffled quietly until he was facing Dean.

"It's gonna be fine, Sammy. I promise you. We're gonna be fine," Dean promised quietly, smiling weakly at Sam and getting an equally weak smile back. Sam nodded his head and then moved close and rest his head on Dean's shoulder, clinging to his brother and closing his eyes as he waited for sleep to come.

It wasn't as hard as Sam thought it might be to fall asleep after the revelations of the night, but Sam put that down to the fact that, no matter what happened after today, he knew he would still have Dean with him.

And Sam didn't need any words to express how that was all he needed.

* * *

**End Note**: So I hope this met what was asked with the prompt! I'll admit it was kinda harder than I thought it would be, if only because, amusingly, my own dysnomia, which affects my writing as well as my speech, kinda cropped up at inopportune times so when Sam had no idea what he wanted to say, I really didn't and couldn't quite think of a good way to get across what we both wanted him to get across. I'll totally admit, I've never had my own disabilities actually sync up with one of my characters. Most bizarre. Lol!

I do hope that I got across just how hard it was for Sam to get his point across and to just communicate in any way that he could and that I did dysnomia a bit of justice. Because, seriously, totally sucks having it and makes you come across as a complete moron sometimes. Even more so when you forget simple words like 'hotdog' and have to describe what it is you want. *Snort* Ah, good times. Safe to say, I don't eat hotdogs anymore.

Doubt Sam does either. Wouldn't blame him. And seeing as our dysnomia is synced, he probably can't say it when he needs to either.

And I'm rambling. Awesome. I'm gonna stop now. It's like half three in the morning and I would really quite like to sleep. So I hope that you liked this! Thanks for reading! XD


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